Sleeping with the Enemy for Fun and Profit
by VolensVivarium
Summary: In an attempt to rid himself of an epic gambling debt, Hawkeye must convince Colonel Flagg to leave the 4077th by any means necessary. Potential slashy situations in later chapters, but nothing either character actually finds enjoyment in.


"Deal me out, Trapper. I don't think my wallet can handle another hand."

"Hawkeye, your wallet couldn't handle the last ten hands," Trapper said as he cut the deck a few times. "Just one more. Heck, maybe you'll get lucky this time!"

"Luck? What's this 'luck' you speak of? I haven't seen anything even resembling luck in the past three weeks! The closest I've come tonight to luck was a pair of tens, and that was the hand where Radar somehow managed to produce a full house!"

Radar slumped a few inches into his chair. "I'm sorry about that, sir. I didn't mean to."

Hawkeye shot Radar a slight grin. "I'm not mad at you, Radar—"

"Oh, I know that. I'm just saying that I don't think anyone means to be dealt a decent hand, or means to draw that third ace, or means to push the bets because the other guy could be bluffing."

"Radar," Hawkeye said, more sternly this time, as he rested his hand on the Corporal's shoulder, "you don't need to apologize for winning a hand. I'm not angry that you beat me."

"He just wants you to stop not meaning to do anything before you end up with a flush," interjected Trapper. He riffled through the cards one last time before he started to deal them around the table.

Hawkeye leaned back in his chair, sighed, and took a sip from his martini glass. "I just want to be able to come out of one of these poker nights with more than the clothes on my back." He looked down at the table. "And I won't even have those if you keep dealing me cards, Trapper! I thought I said I was sitting out this hand!"

"Can it, Hawkeye," Klinger said as took a peek at the stack of cards on the table in front of him. "You're making a bigger deal out of this game than you should be. I doubt you owe us that much money. I can't speak for these other guys, but you only owe me $17.50 and a new pair of nylons."

Radar chuckled a bit at that comment. Hawkeye turned to him and asked, "What are you laughing at? Don't tell me you've already gotten that flush."

"Oh no, sir. I just wanted to say that while you may owe Corporal Klinger $17.50 for tonight's game—"

"Plus stockings," said Trapper.

"Right, $17.50 plus stockings. But you also owe him $703.17, sixteen cigars, and three yards of blue gingham from all the other games we've played this month."

Hawkeye, upon hearing this remark, downed the remainder of his martini in one gulp, coughing a bit as the gin burned his already-raw throat. "Radar," he said. "Don't tell me that keeping tabs of my gambling tab is just one more thing the army pays you to do. Because I don't like the army interfering with my right to sneak out of a debt."

"Oh, I just started doing this after Colonel Blake figured out how much money he forgot you owed him because of these games."

"Radar, don't get the idea that I like midget Corporals interfering with my right to sneak out of a debt any better."

"I'm just telling you what the Colonel told me to do!" Radar sputtered.

Colonel Blake looked up from his hand to shoot the doctor an exasperated glance. "Hawkeye, please. If you're that worried about paying us all back, you can sit out this hand without making a fuss. Got it?"

"Henry, I wish you'd said that before Trapper dealt me a hand," Hawkeye said as he straightened the pile of cards in front of him. "I can't exactly sit this one out if I've already got cards to play."

Trapper nodded at him. "Got that right. It's not kosher, Henry. He's got the cards, so he's got to play this hand."

"Oh no, don't start with me. You're the one who gave me these cards."

"Aw, c'mon Hawkeye. Be a good sport! You haven't even looked at your cards, and you never know. You may have Radar's flush this time!"

Hawkeye groaned as he picked up the cards one by one. "Trapper, I thinking you're just looking to rack up my debt to you even more. I already owe you...um..."

"$163.20 so far from this game, $1322.37 total for this month," Radar recited.

"Thank you, Radar," said Hawkeye, grinning insincerely at the boy. "See, Trapper? Don't I owe you enough? And something tells me that if I don't fold right now, I'll end up owing you even more. Another pair of tens! That'd be good enough to win the hand any other night, but not with you people."

Hawkeye threw the cards on the table and got up to pour himself some more gin. Everyone at the table looked up at him in slight shock as they, one by one, placed their cards on the table as well, as his little outburst had sucked away any intention of their continuing with the game.

"What?" Hawkeye said, after taking a sip of the liquor. "Don't mind me, I'm just a poor man sulking because he'll have to start giving out I.O.U.s for his firstborn child before morning because of a stupid poker debt! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to start dreaming about the shapely nurse who'll help me make that firstborn child, because dreaming's the closest I plan on coming to that repayment strategy for quite some time."

"Hawk, will you stop pouting for a second? You could have won that hand," Trapper said. "Your tens had us all beat to begin with, and your other cards weren't too terrible."

Radar spread Hawkeye's discarded hand on the table. "Wow, an ace, a queen, and a seven! If you got lucky, you could'a had even more than just a pair of tens."

"That's not luck, Radar. Don't call it luck after I've thrown in my hand."

"Well, geez, Hawkeye. I only had a pair of fives!"

"Radar's right, Pierce," said Colonel Blake. "You could have at least won some of your money back with that hand."

Klinger nodded in agreement. "You've got the trash I'm holding beat, that's for sure."

Hawkeye looked out from underneath his blanket. "Okay, fine," he said, "I gave up a good hand. But don't act like that hand was a glimmer of hope for me. No matter how much I would have won that time, it still wouldn't have come close to covering my debt. Even if we played until sunrise, I couldn't win enough to even start to pay you all back. Even if we played until the morning after that, and after that, and after that until the end of the war, I doubt I could win enough to pay you all back!"

"Pierce...Hawkeye...it's not the end of the world just because you owe us a little money. We're not asking you to pay us all back now, we just want you quit throwing such a fit over a game that should be enjoyable, for god's sake!" Hawkeye snorted quietly from under the blanket at the Colonel's remark as Radar flipped through his notes on everyone's poker debts.

"Umm, Colonel Blake?" he whispered, motioning for him to take a look at a particular piece of chicken scratch. "Should you really be calling it 'a little money'? Hawkeye owes you the most of all."

Henry squinted and leaned closer to the paper. "$2744.21? Gee...well, that certainly is a debt, Hawkeye." He chuckled awkwardly.

Hawkeye did not respond.

Trapper shrugged. "Well, I suppose this isn't the right time to suggest we play another hand, huh?"

From under his covers, Hawkeye shouted, "Hmm, Trapper, I really don't know how to answer that question. Because we all certainly have enough cash on hand to keep going, right?" Aside from an exasperated sigh from Colonel Blake, this outburst was ignored.

"Actually, Trapper, I think it may be time to call it quits for the night," said the Colonel. "I'm sure you've noticed that Colonel Flagg's been hanging around the camp recently,

and—"

"Henry, how could we not notice?" interjected Trapper. "I caught him examining discarded bandages for evidence of un-American activities. Discarded bandages, Henry!"

"Yeah, and he was spying on my shower earlier! Colonel, that man has no respect for a maiden's pride!"

"Klinger..." responded Colonel Blake.

Trapper collected the mess of playing cards on the table and smacked the edge of the deck on the table loudly. "I'm still surprised he hasn't seen our lanterns and busted in here, hoping to disrupt our Communist plot or something."

"Actually," said Radar, "he's been under Frank's cot for the last hour and a half."

Rustling was heard coming from under the cot, as well as a muffled damning of the Corporal.

"Flagg," groaned Trapper, "we know you're down there and you know we're not plotting. Now get the hell out."

"On the contrary, I am not here, and if you do not agree with this statement, I can have everyone here court martialed. Or I can kill everyone in this tent in under two minutes. I'm sure you would prefer it in that order, but I am flexible if you do not cooperate."

Hawkeye sat up in bed, the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. "If you do not come out from under that cot, Flagg, I'll jump on it until you do!"

"Are you threatening me, Captain Pierce?"

"Oh, of course not, Colonel. I'm just informing everyone that jumping on you would give me a much-needed pick-me-up tonight and I simply wish to have your cooperation."

"Captain," said Flagg as he slid out from under Frank's cot. "How do I know that you won't start spouting off sensitive information later if I were to leave this tent?" He crossed the tent, staring Hawkeye down the entire time.

Hawkeye smiled at him. "My dear Colonel Flagg, what reason have I given you not to trust me?"

"You have given me every possible reason not to trust you."

"Well can you go not trust me someplace else? Perhaps outside of Major Houlihan's tent—I'm sure Frank's over there being even more untrustworthy than me right now!"

"He's right, Flagg," said Trapper. "Frank hasn't been here all night. Why don't you go spy on him?"

Colonel Flagg turned to Trapper and the rest of the men still sitting at the table and snorted. "And how do you know I'm not spying on Major Burns right now?"

"Oh, come on!" shouted Hawkeye, tossing of the blanket. "You may be a superhuman creep, Flagg, but you can't be in two places at once!"

"As a matter of fact, Captain Pierce, such an act is quite possible with the proper training. I can keep tabs on an entire camp simultaneously, if needed."

"Well, maybe you should set up your spy headquarters somewhere were people aren't trying to get some sleep!"

"He's right, Flagg," said Henry. "Before Radar told us you were here, we were all going to call it quits and go to bed."

"Yeah, maybe you should do the same," added Klinger.

Colonel Flagg glared briefly at him. "That will not be necessary. I do not sleep while on a mission."

"Gee," said Radar, "you must be pretty tired by now. If you never sleep, I mean..."

"A C.I.A. man never gets tired, Corporal. It is not in our job description."

Colonel Blake sighed. "I don't care whether you sleep or not, Flagg. But as commander of this unit, I'm telling you that everyone here will be returning to their respective tents and getting some sleep. Perhaps you should do the same."

"Or whatever you do instead of getting some sleep."

"Pierce, go to bed," said Colonel Blake. "C'mon, Radar, let's go. You too, Klinger. We'll divide up the winnings in the morning." Radar gathered his notes on the game and scurried out of the Swamp after the Colonel. Klinger hung behind, gathering his poker chips.

"You should know," he said to Colonel Flagg, "that spying on a lady in the shower is very un-American of you."

"Corporal," Flagg sniffed, "you are the very definition of un-American."

"I know that, sir. I'm surely too un-American for the army, wouldn't you say?"

"GOOD NIGHT, Klinger," said Trapper as he shoved him out the door. "You too, Flagg. There's nothing left for you to spy on here."

"I can see that. I'll need you and Captain Pierce to turn around, then. Neither of you doctors are allowed to see me leave."

"Oh come on, Flagg! Can't you just use the door like a normal person?" Trapper groaned.

"Absolutely not, my fine companion!" cried Hawkeye. "Can you not see that our good friend, Colonel Flagg, is the most abnormal of individuals?"

"Captain, I will do you a favor and pretend you did not insult me. I'm sure you know that penalties for such behavior are...quite stiff. Now turn around."

The doctors glanced at each other, shrugged, and complied with Colonel Flagg's order. After some rustling of canvas and shuffling of combat boots, Trapper examined the underside of Frank's cot to make sure the spy hadn't just crawled back where he came from. He and Hawkeye checked under their own cots, for good measure.

"Well, he's gone," said Trapper as he climbed to his feet.

"...but not forgotten," Hawkeye replied. "Does anyone even know why he's gracing us with his presence, anyway?"

"No clue, Hawk. But if he continues to grace us with his presence any longer, I think I'm going to grace his face with the presence of my fist."

"Well, don't let me stop you. In fact, you may keep me from punching him first."

As this statement sunk into Trapper's brain, a sly grin slowly crossed his face, not that Hawkeye could see this evidence of a dirty trick take place in the darkness of the tent.

Trapper rolled over in bed to face his friend's cot. "You know," he said, "if you were to do something like that, you'd probably be a hero to the rest of the camp. Especially if it got Flagg to take off. They'd be pretty indebted to you, you know."

"Don't say 'debt,' Trapper. I won't be ready to talk about debt until after the war."

"Not even if you'd be the one collecting on that debt, instead of the other way around?"

Hawkeye went silent for a second, pondering such a possibility. Less than an hour before, he owed several thousand dollars to the men of the 4077th. But now, Trapper proposing a way to be totally clear of that debt? It simply wasn't possible.

"Trapper, what are you talking about? Who's just going to waive my debt to them in response to silly favor?"

"It's not a silly favor, it's Colonel Flagg not sneaking around the camp anymore. And I know I'd forgive your debt if he was gone. I'm sure the others wouldn't be hard to convince."

"And I've just got to convince Flagg to leave?"

"Sure! Do anything you want, as long as it causes him to leave the camp. Insult him, slug him, seduce him—"

"Oh no, I am not doing anything of that sort with that C.I.A. viper. I may be financially and morally bankrupt, but I am not that desperate."

Trapper chuckled softly in the darkness. "I'm not saying you have to marry the man. You can do whatever you want."

"Good."

"....but flirting with another man is so un-American that Flagg would be too busy escaping out of disgust to court-martial you. And the only thing you're better at than seduction is sewing people's bits back into their chests."

"Just because that is completely and absolutely true does not mean I'll do it."

"So don't do it. Just make sure Flagg slithers back into whatever shithole he came from, and your debt is cleared," Trapper said.

"...I'll think about it."

"Good. I'll toss the idea past Radar tomorrow."

Hawkeye groaned. "I said, I'll think about it. But first, I'll try to bleach the idea of me sleeping with Colonel Flagg from my brain with some much more attractive dreams."

"I told you you didn't have to seduce him."

"Good night, Trapper," Hawkeye shouted before throwing the blanket over his head for the second time that night.


End file.
